One part ice. Two parts bitters. Two parts ginger syrup. Four parts bourbon.
Now. Let's do this.
Washed ashore on the northern bank of the St. Johns river, I was dizzy and disoriented. Twice I attempted to rise, just to my knees, but gravity easily overpowered me and my face came crashing back down to Earth.
As I lay there, exhausted and despondent, I thought to myself, “This is what losing three of four feels like.” The shame was just too thick to slice through and even days later the memories would not relent.